of the churchgoers
at Notre Dame. I noticed that the young girl was blind--professionally
interested, I examined her pupils and discovered she was merely
suffering from cataracts which could be readily removed. I told the
old woman so, asked her to bring the girl for treatment to La Force,
but they have never shown up--"

"Quick! Quick!" cried Henriette. "Tell me, Doctor, where Mere Frochard
lives?"

"Oh, they inhabit an old boathouse at the end of the Rue de Brissac
down on the banks of the river Seine. There's a cellar entrance to
their hovel near the Paris-Normandy coach house. But what would you
do?" he inquired solicitously.

"Oh, Sir," said Henriette piteously, "if you could use your influence
to get me out of here some way, I would--would run there and recover
my little lost sister! You don't know how I love her, nor my fears
that they will kill her. Please, please--" The little voice broke off
in sobs.

Patting the girl's shoulder and smiling at her as if to try to impart
confidence in a very difficult matter, the good Doctor drew apart with
Sister Genevieve and conferred earnestly for a few moments. On their
return, the physician spoke again:

"'Twould be of no use to invoke the police, as the Count has probably
instructed them not to hunt for Louise. Nor is it in our power to
release you from here. But we shall get up a petition signed by all of
us for your reprieve, very likely Count de Linieres will not venture
to refuse it--"

Henriette was overjoyed even with this slender resource, and warmly
thanked them. At once her busy little brain laid plans for invading
the lair of the Frochards. And then--a most unexpected ray in the
darkness--arrived at Salpetriere the quaint valet Picard and brought
her comfort too.

No longer a spy for the Count, he had been converted from base
suspicion by the Chevalier's honorable suit and the exile the latter
had suffered. He now delivered this little message from his master at
Caen:

Dearest, never will I marry anyone but you, my heart's desire!
Should I escape, it will be to your arms. Picard knows my secret
plan and will tell you--until then, courage! A thousand kisses
from your Maurice.

Henriette kissed the little paper fervently.

Countess de Linieres decided to make a clean breast of her wretched
past to her husband. "It was not that I--I sinned," she sobbed,
kneeling at his feet, "In the sight of God I am innocent, though
erring!

"In early gi